Bang Bang
by The Elusive
Summary: Sands bids farewell to his past.


She panted under the merciless sun. The blood was running all down her side; it stained her white clothes crimson, leaking onto the sand. She leant against the wall in shock. He stood before her, gun raised. Her hand was gripping the bullet wound.

It was ridiculous how shocked she was. Already her mind was laughing at her, taunting her for being so blind. She still couldn't comprehend it. Him, how could it have been him? She loved him, she'd always loved him. Since the day they'd first met.

_I was five and he was six  
We rode on horses made of sticks  
He wore black and I wore white  
He would always win the fight_

On her twelfth birthday her parents had given her a peewee 50 motorbike. She had of course been delighted. Only wasting enough time to shout an over excited "THANK YOU" as she sped away for the subsequent cruising of the neighborhood.

Being new to the place she was mainly out to make a good impression. Her insane 80's colored clothes and a purple cap that she wore backwards was set to impress. It was a great day. The sun was out, but minus the glare and the clouds were few and colorless. She had turned down the next block and was starting to wonder where all the children were. The ones she had seen were all ten year olds. Babies.

Still the euphoria of riding her own motorcycle and breaking the law whilst successfully getting away with it was enough to sustain her. She rolled down the street, dead center. It was a quite place and being almost midday during the week there was no chance of a car coming down on her. Most houses were mowed, with plastic figures on the lawns. Deer's, gnomes, windmills and the like.

She was just approaching a house that looked like it had been mowed with a jack hammer, the lawn was uneven, the figurines were either faded or headless and despite it being the middle of a beautiful day the windows were shut and the blinds down. She slowed to look at the wreck in the middle of suburban paradise when the door opened to emit a small boy of around her age. He was flung clean out to land hard on the cracked cement steps. He had only regained his knees when the doorway was blocked by a middle aged, balding, overweight man who was waving what looked like a cane. The boy was on his feet, but hunched over. She had slowed a bit. Most people would have sped up, which she told herself to do, but something about the scene held her firmly in place. The overweight man, whom she assumed was the child's father, was shouting incoherently at the boy, who was evidently winded. Then the cane lashed out and got him in the side of his face. The child stumbled sideways clutching his cheek and whirled around desperately. Looking like a caged animal.

He saw her, she saw him and they locked eyes for the first time. In that look he had bought her allegiance. She didn't quite realize what it meant; until he made for her. He run almost doubled over. He hadn't caught his breath, but he ran to her anyway, the fat man gave chase, fairly screaming now. The boy made it to her bike. Hopped on the back and gasped painfully into her ear. "Drive" he choked. She had already gathered that much; the man was bearing down on them both as she revved the bike and sped off. His cane missing them by an inch. For a short distance he gave chase, but gave up almost immediately.

The boy was holding the back of the bike to keep from falling off. As the man shrank in the distance he suddenly let out a whoop. For a split second the bike wobbled as she tried to turn and look at him. Then she felt his arms circle her waist.

"Where are you heading?" she called over the wind, and nearly jumped when she heard his voice in her ear.

"Ahead" he said loudly. She smiled.

_Bang bang, he shot me down_  
_Bang bang, I hit the ground  
Bang bang, that awful sound  
Bang bang, my baby shot me down.  
_

Now there he stood. All in black like an eighteenth century executioner. He still hadn't lowered his gun, like she might be faking dying and would shoot him at any moment. It was true that she still had a gun in her holster, he could probably see it quite clearly, but she was still too shocked. She had no desire to shoot him, how could she? She loved him, and until now, she thought that he loved her.

_Seasons came and changed the time  
And I grew up, I called him mine  
He would always laugh and say  
"Remember when we used to play?"  
_

High school; graduation. They had been the best of friends throughout childhood. At age thirteen she had testified for him and he had been emancipated from his stepfather, who later died of a heart attack. With her help they had cleaned the house up and hired a real estate agent, who sold it for a reasonable amount of money. Which he had put in the bank, and then moved into her tree house. That ended when three months later her mother had found him up there. So he rented a flat not far away. And attended the same school she did. At age fourteen he was suspended for three weeks for hitting another boy who had called her a lesbian.

At fifteen they had been each others partners at the school dance.

At sixteen they were separated. She was an A grade student while he maintained a C or B. Neither had made any other friends. It was here they followed their own paths. It was also here that their friendship changed to something more.

At seventeen the prospect of careers became their main focus. Both felt slightly worried, because it seemed evident that she would be going to college while he pursued other things.

She remembered graduation acutely. The bell had rang, everyone in her class had stood and hugged and wept. She had made her way to the small bit of lawn in the center of the school. He had appeared at the other end of the splash of green. They had made their way to each other, and stood just centimeters apart.

"So, here we are" she had said smiling. He had a strange look on his face, one that she had never seen before.

"Yes" he said. Even his voice sounded strange. Tense.

"What…" she had begun when suddenly he was kissing her. She had not returned it, she was far too shocked, and then he released her and looked away. She realized he had been scared. Then before he could speak she had kissed him and he had returned it.

To her, at that moment it had seemed like the sun was that much brighter. The sounds of other people had droned out. They were at the crossroads, and no matter which path they chose, it couldn't be wrong.

_Bang bang, I shot you down_  
_Bang bang, you hit the ground  
Bang bang, that awful sound  
Bang bang, I used to shoot you down.  
_

Now there he stood; the proud stance in his shoulders, the familiar somber look. She hadn't seen that look since she would pick him up in the morning on her bike after having spent the night in the house of his stepfather. It was the unreadable look. It used to hide his feelings and thoughts. He had not directed it at her for close to twenty years.

She wanted to ask why, to hear him speak to her. Please speak to me, she screamed mentally. She tried to speak but blood gurgled up from her throat and blocked any chance of speech as she slipped a little bit further down the wall.

_Music played and people sang_

_Just for me the church bells rang_

After the passion in their relationship had faded they remained like brother and sister. Well, perhaps a little _too_ close for brother and sister, but the love of a family was there. At this time, the time of indecision, he had become depressive and a junkie. He had taken any and all drugs and had about as many different girlfriends. However, whenever he was naked and vomiting on the bathroom floor of some obscure dingy hotel or pub toilet it had been her that had picked him up. None of the floozies he had met would stay to deal with his abusive and increasingly irritated state. Everytime he had awoken on her couch washed and dressed in the fluffy pink dressing gown she had embroidered his name into, he had tried to make her scold him for his actions. Asking whether she ever got tired of cleaning him up, or sick of his constant insults and the odd projectile he threw at her. Each time she had answered that he was no burden and no matter what he did, she would never get 'sick' of him. Everytime he heard that he scowled, but she knew he was happy. She could read him like a book.

Everytime they ate breakfast or whatever meal was closest to the time he awoke on her sofa he swore he'd never take drugs again. She knew he was lying.

It ended when she had to hospitalize him for excessive blood loss after he slit his wrists. The landlord to his apartment called her whenever he started to break things or seemed dangerously high. Her mobile had rung at three in the morning, the landlord fairly yelling at her that her brother had smashed what sounded like glass and that it would be put on his rent. She had driven the seven and a half minutes to his block and used her spare key to find him in a pool of his own blood on the dirty bathroom tiles at his house.

He had awoken two days later to see her blotchy, tear streaked face asleep atop his covers and a bandage around her left arm where she had donated most of the blood he had needed (her type was O).

"How long will you keep helping me?" he had asked, her eyes opening to the sound of his voice.

"For as long as we both shall live" she had croaked back, her throat sore and her face serious. He had considered her.

"I hope I die before you" he whispered as she smiled and a tear leaked out of her bloodshot eyes.

_Now he's gone, I don't know why  
And till this day, sometimes I cry  
He didn't even say goodbye  
He didn't take the time to lie.  
_

She went to college, and they spoke and wrote continuously. It was close to third year holidays, she was going to pay him a surprise visit, but three weeks before they started his letters stopped coming. His phone had been disconnected. She had left two weeks early in a panic. When she got to his house she found it sold, it had been for two months. No one knew where he was, where he had gone. She had not detected anything amiss in his letters or his voice. Yet he had left her, disappeared from her life. She had not cried. Her grief was beyond tears. She no longer cared for her future, she dropped college, she packed up and moved interstate, severing all ties, even that of her family. She did meaningless jobs. Once she even worked in a rodeo. She was a freewheeling person. She had nothing. Until by chance she had seen him, walking through the crowd at her old rodeo show, which she had come to see in her state. He was talking to Mick, who had one arm.

She had stood there, looking at him, drinking in the sight of him. He had turned, as if feeling her eyes on him. He had changed. He no longer slouched, he stood poised and proud. His face had hardened, he had lost his trust for everyone, his eyes were colder and he was as hostile at the world as his step father had been. She had looked away, the tears finally stinging her eyes as she made for the gates.

She didn't quite know how he had managed to track her down, she was sitting between two dusty cars, rubbing at her eyes furiously when he came around the bonnet and sat next to her in the dust. She could see he was no longer a kid. He was a man, and the sight of him without his childish hopes and dreams made her want to sob. The world had ripped them away.

She wasn't angry at him any more. How could she be? She loved him even now. Even if the 'he' she loved was a shadow of his former self, perhaps an imagined person.

_Bang bang, he shot me down  
Bang bang, I hit the ground  
Bang bang, that awful sound  
Bang bang, my baby shot me down._

Suddenly everything seemed clearer. The pain in her belly was distant. The reality of where she was seemed somehow unimportant. For a second her vision wavered and she saw the little boy with the sour look on his face in place of the stoic man who had murdered the youth. Her throat opened, allowing air in, and she felt the blood return to her stomach. She knew this would be her last chance to speak. These would be her last words. What should she say? What could she possibly say that would make any difference now?

"_How long will you keep helping me?...."_

"For as long as we both shall live" she choked and then realized she was no longer sitting against the wall, but lying in the dirt. Pain, unimaginable and unbearable rushed through her and her vision faded at what seemed as slow as an eternity passing.

The man stood there. _I died today_. He looked at his almost full clip and for a second was tempted to turn it on himself. Finished what should have been over so many times before. What she had stopped so many times. Then his cell phone rang, shattering the dark reverie.

Sands flipped the phone open. "We have a new mission".

It was a statement that wanted an answer. But Sands rarely ever took something blindly.

"Where?"

"Mexico". There was a pause.

"I'll take it".


End file.
